Aira's POV
The early morning sunlight crept through the thin cracks in the heavy curtains of her room, spilling soft golden light over Aira's face. She blinked slowly, stretching her arms overhead as a subtle sigh escaped her lips. For a moment, she allowed herself to savor the warmth that filled the space. But like a shadow creeping back into the light, the weight of her reality settled over her again.
Aira was not herself here. She was not allowed to be.
With a reluctant groan, she swung her legs off the bed, her feet hitting the cold wooden floor. The reflection staring back at her from the mirror on the opposite wall wasn't who she truly was. Mike. That's who everyone saw, the boy they all believed was strong and dependable, unflinching in the face of danger. But it was all a mask—a well-woven lie she had crafted to survive.
Her hand traced the familiar lines of her chest, the bandages that were wound too tightly, suffocating her true self. Each morning brought the same ritual—binding, covering, pretending. It was exhausting, but what choice did she have? The Academy wasn't a place where weakness was tolerated, and in their eyes, being herself was the ultimate vulnerability.
The shower did little to soothe the ache in her muscles, a constant reminder of the mission from the day before. Her entire body felt like it was rebelling against her, resisting the tight constraints that held it in a form it didn't want to stay in.
"Today will be better," she whispered to herself, though she wasn't sure who she was trying to convince.
By the time she finished dressing as Mike again—donning the masculine uniform, strapping the hidden blades to her boots, adjusting the heavy black wig over her natural locks—she felt ready to face another day at Celestial Academy. But the hollow feeling in her chest remained, gnawing at her, reminding her of the lie she carried with every step.
Normal POV
The halls of the Academy were already buzzing with activity by the time Aira—no, Mike—joined the other students. Warriors, scholars, and magic-wielders alike shuffled through the stone corridors, their faces a mix of concentration and weariness. It was always the same; the Academy thrived on discipline and order, on pushing its students to their limits.
Mike walked with purpose, his head high, posture straight. He couldn't afford to slip—not even for a second.
"Mike!"
The familiar voice of Yoro echoed down the hallway, accompanied by the usual chorus of giggles from the girls who always seemed to trail after him. Yoro had a way of attracting attention, his confident swagger and easy charm making him the center of every conversation. Ilyan, as always, was beside him, quieter but no less admired.
Mike nodded in their direction as he approached, his steps careful, measured. He had grown used to the attention—the girls who whispered and giggled as they fawned over Yoro, Ilyan, and sometimes even Mike himself. But it was always awkward, knowing that the admiration they gave him wasn't truly for who he was.
"Hey, Mike! Good to see you up and about." Yoro grinned, clapping him on the back in that friendly, brotherly way that always made Aira flinch just a little. "You were a beast on the last mission, man. We could barely keep up with you."
Mike forced a smile. "Just doing my part," he replied, his voice carefully neutral. He had perfected the art of keeping his responses short, casual—just enough to blend in but never too much to draw suspicion.
"You've always been the quiet type," Ilyan chimed in, his voice smooth and relaxed. "But I swear, one day we're going to get you to actually enjoy the attention."
Mike's heart lurched at the thought. He didn't want the attention. Not like this. Not when it was built on a lie.
He glanced toward the front of the classroom, where Estelle was seated, her eyes already trained on him with that knowing look she always had. Her smirk was barely concealed as she raised an eyebrow, silently mocking him for the situation he found himself in. Mike shook his head slightly, giving her a half-smile in return. At least she understood the absurdity of it all.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of lessons and exercises. The Academy's rigorous schedule left little room for personal thoughts, which was both a blessing and a curse. For hours, Mike could focus on the tasks at hand, losing himself in the rhythm of sword drills, tactical exercises, and magic theory.
But it was during the brief moments of respite—when they moved between classes or shared meals in the great hall—that Mike's mind drifted back to Lire.
Lire's POV
Lire couldn't shake the feeling. It clung to him like the cold mist that often rolled in over the Academy at dawn, chilling him to the bone. Ever since the last mission, something had shifted in the air, something that gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, whispering that there was more to Mike than he had ever let on.
He leaned against the doorway of the training room, his eyes scanning the courtyard below. Mike was there, going through sword drills with a quiet intensity that was almost mesmerizing. Lire had always admired Mike's skill, the precision in his movements, the way he seemed to move like a shadow—silent, swift, deadly.
But now, there was something else. Something beneath the surface that Lire couldn't quite put into words.
A strange sense of protectiveness had settled over him, something he hadn't felt in a long time. It was more than just respect for a fellow warrior, more than camaraderie. It was… personal.
Lire's jaw tightened as he watched Mike, his green eyes narrowing in thought. He had never been one to let emotions cloud his judgment, but Mike was getting under his skin in a way that he couldn't ignore. There was a mystery there, something that Lire was determined to uncover.
But for now, all he could do was watch—and wait.
Aira's POV
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Mike was more than ready to retreat to the solitude of his room. The day had been long, exhausting, and the weight of the disguise was starting to wear on Aira's nerves. She needed space—time to breathe, time to think without the constant pressure of pretending.
As she made her way back to her room, the hallways quiet now that most of the students had retreated to their own quarters, Aira felt the familiar sense of unease creeping in. It wasn't just the exhaustion. It wasn't just the strain of keeping up the charade.
It was Lire.
He had been watching her all day, his piercing gaze following her like a shadow. Every time their eyes met, Aira's heart would skip a beat, and she would force herself to look away before he could see too much. It was dangerous—this thing between them, this tension that seemed to hang in the air whenever they were near each other.
But she couldn't help it. Lire had always been an enigma to her—cold, aloof, a perfect soldier. But recently, there had been moments, small glimmers of something else. Something softer. Something that made Aira's pulse quicken.
She hated it. She hated how her thoughts drifted to him when she was supposed to be focused on her survival. She hated the way her heart reacted to his presence, the way her body seemed to betray her every time he was near.
But most of all, she hated that he was getting closer to the truth.
Aira reached her room and closed the door behind her with a soft click. She leaned against the door for a moment, letting out a slow breath as she allowed herself to relax, if only for a moment. The room was small, quiet, and most importantly—safe. Here, she could shed the mask of Mike and just… be.
But that sense of safety was fleeting, especially when she thought about Lire.
She moved to the small mirror on her dresser, her fingers hesitating on the edge of her uniform. Slowly, carefully, she began to undo the bindings, releasing the pressure that had been building all day. As the bandages fell away, Aira's true self stared back at her from the mirror—vulnerable, fragile, and yet stronger than anyone at the Academy knew.
Her eyes drifted to the door, half-expecting a knock. Half-expecting Lire to be standing there, demanding answers.
But the door remained closed, and for now, Aira was alone.
Yet she knew, deep down, that her time was running out. Secrets didn't stay buried forever, and the walls she had built around herself were starting to crack. And when they crumbled, when the truth finally came to light, there would be no turning back.
Because once Lire knew the truth, nothing would ever be the same.
This chapter continues to build the tension between Aira and Lire, with Aira's inner conflict growing stronger as she struggles to maintain her disguise. The emotional weight of her secret is beginning to take its toll, and Lire's increasing suspicion adds another layer of danger. The stage is set for the inevitable unraveling of Aira's secrets and the shifting dynamics between her and Lire.
TO BE CONTINUED...