The infirmary doors groaned as Dahlia pushed them open, stepping hesitantly into the noisy corridors of the academy. The transition from the quiet, sterile room to the chaos outside was jarring. The air was alive with the hum of conversation, laughter, and hurried footsteps. Students moved in packs, their crisp uniforms and vibrant energy giving the halls a life of their own. It was the kind of atmosphere that would have been energizing for someone who felt at home, but for Dahlia, it was suffocating.
She had been warned about the students here—how they would look at her, how they would whisper behind her back. But nothing could have prepared her for the weight of their gazes.
The moment she stepped into the bustling corridor, everything seemed to slow. The noise dimmed, the bright chatter faded, and all of a sudden, she felt like a target. Eyes turned to her, their glances sharp and unyielding. The whispers followed her like shadows.
"Who is she?"
"She doesn't look like one of us."
"Was she transferred here? I've never seen her before."
Dahlia's stomach twisted at the sound of those voices. It was as though they could see right through her, peeling away the layers she'd carefully put on to keep herself hidden. Her heart pounded in her chest as the weight of their stares bore down on her. She gripped the strap of her bag tighter, as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded.
She could feel the flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, the uncomfortable tightness in her chest, but she forced herself to move forward. She kept her head low, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. Ignore them, she reminded herself. You're not here for them.
But still, the whispers didn't stop. A group of girls passed by her, giggling, their voices sharp and biting as they split into pieces of conversation, fragments of judgments thrown her way.
"She doesn't even look special. How did she end up here?"
"She looks so… lost."
Dahlia clenched her fists, the heat of humiliation rising in her cheeks. She wanted to say something, to snap back at their audacity, but her throat felt constricted, and the words got caught in her mouth. She wasn't here for them. She was here for something far more important.
The Celestial Book.
The thought of it was like a mantra, repeating over and over in her mind. That was her goal. Not the academy, not these students—just the book. If she could get her hands on it, prove her worth to the Dark Kingdom, then none of this would matter. These whispers, these looks—they were nothing but distractions.
She gritted her teeth, pushing them out of her mind. Her feet moved on their own, carrying her down unfamiliar corridors, her gaze never lifting from the floor. She wasn't paying attention to where she was going—she didn't care. All that mattered was the book. She had a mission. The Celestial Book. Get the book. Leave.
The noise of the hallway became a low hum in the background, as if it were miles away. Dahlia barely noticed the intricate carvings on the walls or the towering windows that let in streams of golden light. Her steps quickened as the thought of the book consumed her. She had to focus. She couldn't let herself be distracted by anything else.
Until—
Thud.
The sudden impact knocked the air out of her lungs, and Dahlia stumbled backward. A sharp pain shot through her nose as she instinctively raised her hand to her face. The jarring collision had thrown her off balance, but it was more than just physical. She felt as though she'd collided with something far deeper. The world around her blurred for a moment as her mind tried to catch up with her body's reaction.
"Hey!" she exclaimed, her voice edged with irritation. "Watch where—"
She froze as she looked up, her words dying in her throat. Standing in front of her was a young man, or rather, a boy who carried himself like a king. His presence seemed to command the air around him, and for a moment, the entire corridor seemed to hold its breath. He was tall, his posture straight and unyielding, the kind of posture that suggested strength and authority. His features were as sharp as a blade, his face striking and yet effortlessly aloof. Dark hair fell across his forehead, framing a face that could have been carved from marble. But it was his eyes that struck her most—icy blue and piercing, they seemed to see straight through her, dissecting her every thought, every feeling.
The encounter left her speechless.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Dahlia felt her irritation waver, the anger bubbling up inside of her replaced by something else—something unsettling. She wasn't sure if it was awe, unease, or just sheer confusion at the feeling he invoked in her, but whatever it was, it rattled her. His eyes were like an iceberg, cold and unyielding, and yet, they felt like they were staring into her very soul.
"You should be more careful," he said, his voice smooth but cold, detached as though he couldn't care less about the collision.
Dahlia blinked, her brain scrambling to process the words. "I should be careful?" Her voice was sharper than she intended, irritation flaring again. "You're the one who—" She stopped herself, realizing how ridiculous she must sound. It wasn't his fault that he'd been in her way.
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she straightened her posture, trying to regain some dignity. She refused to let him see her flustered.
The boy raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching slightly, though it was unclear whether he was amused or just indifferent. His expression was unreadable, a mask of complete detachment.
Before she could say anything else, a voice called out from the end of the hall.
"Benedict! Don't leave us behind!"
Dahlia's heart sank. She knew that name. She recognized it immediately.
Benedict Sole.
Her mind raced as she processed the whispers she had overheard about him. A prodigy, they said. The academy's brightest star. He was a living legend here, not just because of his skill, but because of the unshakable aura of power he exuded. He was the best, the untouchable, the one who everyone admired—and feared.
Benedict glanced toward the sound of his name but didn't immediately respond. Instead, his gaze returned to Dahlia, and for a moment, it lingered on her. That sharp, calculating look seemed to see past her exterior, into something deeper, something she wasn't ready to reveal.
"Try not to get lost," he said, the words casual, almost dismissive, before he turned and walked away. His long coat swirled around him as he rejoined the group of students who had been waiting for him.
Dahlia stood frozen in place, her fists clenched at her sides. Anger, frustration, and a strange sense of humiliation welled up inside her. How dare he speak to her like that? But at the same time, she couldn't deny the way his presence had affected her. There was something about him—something that commanded attention.
The whispers around her grew louder, and Dahlia realized that everyone had witnessed the exchange. Their eyes darted between her and Benedict, curiosity in their gazes, amusement flickering in their expressions. She could feel their judgment, their silent assessment of the situation.
Grinding her teeth, Dahlia forced herself to move. She couldn't afford to dwell on what had just happened. The mission was what mattered. The Celestial Book. Nothing else.
But as she walked away, her thoughts betrayed her. Benedict's cold, piercing gaze lingered in her mind, a mark she couldn't erase. She shook her head, trying to clear it, but that nagging feeling of being watched, of being seen in a way she couldn't escape, refused to leave her.
Affected aren't we? she thought to herself, an uneasy chuckle escaping her lips. This was only the beginning, she knew. Benedict Sole was just one of the many challenges she would face here. But for some reason, this encounter felt different. As if her fate was now somehow intertwined with his.
Shaking her head like a madman, Dahlia pushed forward, determined to ignore the lingering unease gnawing at her.
She had a mission. And nothing—not even Benedict Sole—was going to stop her.