Chapter 3

Damian couldn’t take his eyes off Gilrota, twirling a pen in his right hand. The professor’s voice faded into background noise as an odd feeling mixed with extreme displeasure welled up inside him.

Ayla had never shown interest in anyone before. The fact that the first person to catch her attention in the Academy was a man deeply unsettled Damian. How unique could that scent be for Ayla to remember it? And why would a Literature student smell like that?

Various hypotheses branched out in his mind, but he couldn’t reach a conclusion. He needed more information beyond these fragments. If this were the Imperial Palace, he’d use his informants, but this was the Academy. He’d have to rely on rumors. Fortunately, he had built a good image here.

“Hey, what are you doing? Class is over.”

The pen Damian had been twirling fell onto his notebook. Ayla’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. She stood beside him, looking down with a puzzled expression.

Damian looked around. Gilrota was gone, as was the professor. Only a few students remained in the spacious lecture hall.

“If you’re not leaving, I’m going ahead.”

Damian quickly grabbed the hem of Ayla’s jacket as she turned. She looked back at him with an irritated expression that seemed to ask, “What are you doing?” The annoying Damian just grinned.

“Let’s go together, Ayla.”

Damian stood up. He released Ayla’s jacket and offered his hand. Without thinking, Ayla naturally took it. Damian’s smile deepened.

As they left the lecture hall, Ayla said firmly, “Next time, I’m leaving first.”

But Damian didn’t believe her at all. Ayla was always like this at the Academy. Pretending to ignore him, but never truly doing so.

“Alright. Next time, I won’t keep you waiting.”

As he spoke, Damian carefully brushed aside a golden lock of hair that had been disheveled by the breeze coming through the open window. Ayla stopped in her tracks, staring at Damian with a blank expression, speechless. Her face slowly began to redden. Damian looked at her innocently.

“Hm? What’s wrong?”

You, you, crazy…! The words rose to Ayla’s throat, but she couldn’t spit them out with so many eyes around. Her ear burned where his fingers had touched.

Ayla forcefully shook off Damian’s hand. Then, leaving behind a perplexed Damian, she walked away at a pace that was almost a run.

“Huh? Ayla, wait for me!”

She thoroughly ignored Damian’s calls from behind.

This version aims to improve the flow between ideas, vary sentence structure, and create a more cohesive narrative while maintaining the original mood and content. It also tries to better convey the nuances of the characters’ interactions and emotions.

* * * 

This guy was the problem. He had no concept of personal space. Thinking back, she realized she had unconsciously held his hand too, right in the middle of a crowded hallway, no less.

Her own familiarity with this lack of boundaries was also an issue. With no one to voice these complaints to, she had written them in a letter. Eileen’s response was frustratingly simple:

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

As if having a handsome man treat you well was automatically good. When had her sister become so fixated on appearances? It was lamentable. There was truly no one helpful around her. They say life is a solitary journey, and that seemed to ring true. Her academy life, too, was a path she had to forge alone.

Sighing heavily, Ayla arrived at the classroom. It was already packed with students, leaving only seats in the front row. Perfect for her, of course. As she settled in, Damian predictably took the seat beside her. She remained oblivious to the whispers around them, speculating about a lovers’ quarrel.

“Ayla, why did you leave me behind again?” Damian grumbled, his face downcast.

Ayla ignored him, focusing on arranging her books and notes.

“Ayla, why did you abandon me?”

“If you were in my position…!”

Catching herself about to shout, Ayla lowered her voice to a whisper, conscious of the eyes around them.

“It’s because of how you acted in the hallway!”

“What did I do?”

“Holding my hand! And, you know, touching my hair!”

“What’s wrong with that? We’re friends, aren’t we? Is it not allowed…?”

Damian’s eyes drooped pitifully. Ayla couldn’t understand why she felt guilty when Damian was clearly in the wrong. She needed to argue back. Even if they were friends…! Yes, they were friends, but…! Ayla’s mouth opened and closed, words failing her. Her eyes wavered as she looked at Damian, whimpering like a rain-soaked puppy. Finally, she uttered words that contradicted her thoughts.

“…Fine. It’s okay. It’s allowed.”

At her words, Damian’s face lit up as if he had never been dejected, like a puppy wagging its tail once again.

Unintentionally witnessing this exchange, a female student sitting behind them shook her head, thinking to herself: Love quarrels truly are like cutting water with a knife.

* * * 

The boy trembled, trying to hide his shaking hands as he glanced nervously around. The street was pitch black, illuminated only by a sliver of moon no bigger than a fingernail. Though he was sure he was alone, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being followed.

In the faint light, the boy fumbled through his pockets. His mind screamed that this was wrong, but his body refused to listen. Hastily, he tipped something into his mouth. Crunch. He chewed.

Ah. A sigh of ecstasy escaped his lips. Anxiety and restlessness vanished, replaced by pure exhilaration. It felt like soaring to dizzying heights.

And then, a freefall into the abyss.

The boy couldn’t even scream properly. His mouth just gaped silently. Strength drained from his body as his vision blurred and his eyes fluttered shut.

As clouds obscured the moon, darkness engulfed him.

* * * 

Damian, with his charm that captivated even commoners, gathered information about Gilrota. However, there wasn’t much to learn. Gilrota was 18, now an adult. Since Academy admission was possible between 13 and 15, this wasn’t particularly revealing. Most notably, Gilrota had very few friends—almost none, in fact. He seemed to have had close companions in his first year, but they had either taken leaves of absence or dropped out.

This wasn’t unusual. While scholarships were available for commoner students, the financial burden often led them to take breaks to work and save money before returning, or to drop out rather than face the shame of failing a year.

Damian recalled Gilrota’s academic performance. While Ayla, focused solely on first and second place, might not have noticed, Damian had seen Gilrota’s name on the bulletin board consistently. Among the top five names listed, Gilrota’s position fluctuated but always remained within that range. Such performance likely secured him a full scholarship.

So, despite being a commoner, Gilrota didn’t have to worry about tuition. Without knowing his exact family circumstances, Damian considered the possibility that Gilrota’s family might be wealthy—perhaps part of the emerging bourgeoisie. If so, affording perfume wouldn’t be difficult. Moreover, perfumes often smell different when mixed with an individual’s natural scent, which could explain the unique aroma Ayla had noticed.

Was his suspicion merely unfounded anxiety? Yet, Damian couldn’t dismiss Ayla’s description of that distinctive herbal scent. He felt he needed to investigate from a different angle.

Checking his pocket watch, Damian realized it was about time for Ayla to emerge from the library. He walked towards the entrance of Caelum. As expected, Ayla was just leaving.

Damian called out cheerfully, “Ayla!”

He waved as she turned her head. After a moment of hesitation and a glance around, Ayla responded with a small wave, her head slightly bowed. Damian approached her with a bright smile. Under the streetlight, he noticed her ears were slightly flushed.

Realizing Damian had reached her, Ayla tried to make a quick exit. She felt she’d been accommodating enough.

“That’s enough, right? I’m going.”

But Damian’s hand was quicker, catching hers before she could leave. Ayla’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Hey, what are you—!”

“I’ll walk you back. It’s late.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been waiting for me?”

She had wondered why he hadn’t followed her to the library as usual. He often walked her back to the dormitory after her study sessions, but today was later than usual. She hadn’t expected him to wait all this time. The night was quiet, darkness having settled in.

“How long have you been waiting?”

She noticed his hand was quite cold. Though spring had arrived, the night air was still chilly.

“It’s nothing. I just timed it right.”

“How could you know when I’d come out?”

“Years of experience, I suppose?”

Damian smiled nonchalantly. Ayla sighed deeply, at a loss for how to handle this puppy-like behavior.

“I don’t even know anymore. Fine, do as you please.”

She was tired from studying and didn’t feel like arguing. Besides, no one was around now. She could allow this much. Though she was still unsure about the boundaries of friendship.

Reluctantly, Ayla grasped Damian’s hand. A cool breeze rustled through the leaves, brushing past their joined hands.

A pristine crescent moon hung low in the sky.