Lira tore down the last of the flyers, crumpling them in her hand as she passed the now-empty hallway. The walls that had once been plastered with their advertisements for tutoring sessions were bare again, a sign that this strange chapter of their lives had finally come to an end. Milo had insisted on resting today—his exhaustion was evident even after a full day's sleep. And after yesterday's display, she knew they didn't need to tutor anyone else. They had proven their point in class.
As she tossed the crumpled flyer into a nearby bin, Lira's thoughts wandered back to yesterday's performance. She could still feel the lingering warmth of Milo's lips, the way his touch had ignited something primal and possessive within her. A surge of territoriality rose in her chest at the memory—something she didn't quite understand but couldn't ignore.
Just as she rounded a corner, she was intercepted by two pairs of students—partners from their class. They approached her cautiously but with a shared goal in mind. The taller of the two boys cleared his throat awkwardly before speaking.
"Hey, Lira, uh… We were wondering if maybe Milo could, you know, tutor us privately?"
Lira blinked at them, momentarily stunned. "You mean like another makeout session?" Her voice came out sharper than she intended, but she didn't bother correcting it.
The girl beside him quickly jumped in. "We're only asking because it's really helping everyone. I mean, you guys really raised the bar, and if Milo could just give us a few tips… It'd help the whole class improve, you know? Maybe even some other students from different classes."
The words grated on Lira's nerves. Other classes? Milo was hers. The memory of his lips on hers, the way his hands had claimed her in front of everyone, burned brighter in her mind. The thought of him doing that again, with anyone else, made her stomach twist uncomfortably.
Lira plastered on her best fake smile, trying to keep her voice sweet despite the bubbling irritation. "Milo didn't get out of bed today. He's still completely exhausted," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "You can come see for yourself if you want, but he won't be available for at least a few weeks. He, uh, overexerted himself with our intimate training, so he's refusing to even think about it until he's fully recovered."
The pair exchanged a glance, clearly disappointed, but neither seemed to want to push the issue further. They mumbled something about checking in later before awkwardly shuffling away, leaving Lira standing alone in the hallway, her fists clenched at her sides. The irritation lingered as she headed back to their room. She hated feeling this way—hated how possessive she had become. But after yesterday, the idea of sharing Milo again, even for something like tutoring, was unbearable.
Meanwhile, back in their dorm room, Milo lay sprawled on his bed, barely stirring. The heavy exhaustion weighed on him like a blanket, keeping him pinned down. Every muscle in his body felt weak, and his head pounded from overuse of his ability. No matter how much rest he got, it didn't seem like enough.
He barely registered the soft knock at the door at first. His mind was too foggy, drifting in and out of a dazed half-sleep. The knocking persisted, a gentle but firm rhythm that finally dragged him from the haze.
Grumbling under his breath, Milo sat up slowly, his limbs heavy with fatigue. "Who is it?" he called out groggily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"It's your instructor," came the reply, her voice clear and serious through the door.
Milo's heart sank. *Did I miss class? Did I sleep through two days?*
Confused and still half-asleep, Milo dragged himself to the edge of the bed. He stood shakily, running a hand through his messy hair, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess. His body still felt like lead, but there was no way to avoid the situation now.
He opened the door a crack, just enough to see Professor Veria standing there—but this time, something was different. Gone was her usual smile, replaced by a gaze so sharp and deadly that it froze Milo in place. Her eyes locked onto him with a cold, predatory focus, as if daring him to make the wrong move. It was the kind of look that made it clear she could dismember him with a flick of her wrist if he so much as flinched the wrong way.
His breath caught in his throat, and his hands instinctively tightened on the doorframe. The swirling magic around him, still unstable from his recent use of his ability, pulsed erratically, but it seemed insignificant compared to the weight of Veria's presence.
"We need to talk," she said, her voice low and serious, a dangerous undertone lacing every word.
Milo's pulse quickened. For a brief second, he wondered if he had done something terribly wrong—something that might have brought out this new side of his instructor. But he was too tired, too drained, to think too much on it. With a defeated sigh, he lazily opened the door wider, stepping aside to let her in.
___________________________
Milo barely had time to react as Instructor Veria entered the room. The weight of her presence sent a wave of tension crackling through the air, every nerve in his body prickling with awareness. As he reached for the door to shut it behind her, something unexpected happened. Her hand moved faster than he could comprehend, her arm sliding over his shoulder, and before he could ask what was going on, she slammed the door shut with a force that rattled the hinges.
Pain shot through his shoulder as her arm crushed it against the door, his back slamming against the wood with enough pressure to make him wince. A pained grunt escaped from his mouth, the sound barely muffled as he tried to catch his breath. His entire body recoiled, but there was no escape from her grip. Veria's golden eyes locked onto his, flaring into a full golden glow, electric sparks radiating from her skin and snaking through the room.
The tiny shocks from her skin against the enchanted fabric of his clothes stung like small needles, each jolt a reminder that he was utterly at her mercy. He could feel the static crawling across his skin, making his muscles twitch involuntarily. For a moment, he was too stunned to do anything but stare at her in wide-eyed confusion and fear.
Without any preamble, she opened her mouth and issued her first question—no, her first command.
"Are you human?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Yes or no."
The question landed like a blow, knocking the breath from Milo's lungs. His mind raced, scrambling for an answer. The overwhelming pressure of her power, a shard of it released to suffocate him, left him unable to think clearly. The sheer terror that her presence induced was unlike anything he'd felt before. His heart pounded in his chest, and for a second, he thought he might pass out from the fear alone.
But he couldn't answer. The words stuck in his throat, too afraid to say anything that might provoke her further. Despite the visible terror in his eyes, Veria clicked her tongue, her impatience clear as she interpreted his silence as something more sinister. Her eyes narrowed, and her power flared, the static electricity becoming more intense.
"You're trying to deceive me," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "Undress. Now."
Milo's breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth to protest, to ask what the hell was going on, but the words never came. Her command was absolute, brooking no argument, and the searing authority in her voice left no room for disobedience.
Shaking slightly, he complied, his fingers trembling as he began to unbutton his shirt. The air in the room felt thick and heavy, as if every movement was being weighed down by her power. The moment felt excruciatingly long, each button undone with slow, deliberate motions.
Veria's golden gaze remained fixed on him, unblinking, watching his every move with the precision of a hawk. She wasn't just looking at him—she was dissecting him, scrutinizing every inch of his body as if she expected something monstrous to reveal itself the moment his clothes hit the floor.
As he finally shrugged off his shirt, exposing his bare torso, he hesitated. The vulnerability of the situation gnawed at him, making him feel exposed and powerless. But Veria wasn't finished. Her sharp eyes scanned him up and down, looking for any sign of abnormality—any sigil, strange mark, or inhuman feature that might betray him.
"All of it," she ordered, her voice flat and unyielding. "Leave nothing to hide."
Milo swallowed hard, feeling his face flush with humiliation. He was reluctant but knew resisting wasn't an option. Slowly, he removed the rest of his clothing, standing there bare before her, his body tense and rigid under her intense scrutiny.
Veria circled him, her gaze cold and clinical. Her hand hovered just above his skin, close enough that he could feel the static hum of her magic, but she never touched him. She was looking for something—anything that might suggest he wasn't what he claimed to be.
Minutes passed in tense silence as she examined him from every angle, her eyes narrowing whenever she found something that piqued her interest, only to lose focus when it revealed itself to be nothing more than a scar or a birthmark.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she stepped back, her gaze still sharp but no longer lethal. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she straightened, though her eyes never softened.
"There are no signs," she muttered, more to herself than to him. Her power began to pull back, the electric charge in the room slowly dissipating, leaving only a lingering hum in the air.
Milo, still trembling, wanted to ask what the hell that was all about, but the intensity of the moment kept his mouth shut. He knew better than to provoke her further. Whatever just happened, it wasn't over yet.