The hourglass in the library's basement study ticked softly, marking each minute that felt like a long sigh. The blue crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling cast a soft glow across the rows of grimoires. The atmosphere was cool, quiet, almost holy—like a chapel for magical scholars.
Ren sat at a stone table, his right arm stretched out over the cold surface. In front of him lay a fresh sheet of parchment, pristine except for the mana reverberation circle he had just scribbled—messy and slightly askew. Beside him stood Selene, the Great Mage who was like a living ice statue: long silver hair pulled back into a half-bun, deep purple woven robes falling in graceful folds around her slender waist. She held a thin crystal staff in her hand, but this time it was only tucked into her elbow; she had chosen to guide Ren directly with her fingers—a "hands-on" method that supposedly imparted the basic mana pattern more quickly.
"Repeat the outline of the circle," Selene said, her voice clear and cool, but with a rare patience she rarely showed anyone other than Akira. "Make sure the arc doesn't break at the north point. If it does, the mana will leak out and fail to bind."
Ren nodded, reaching for the silver rune quill. The tip of the quill was trembling—not from nervousness at the spell, but from the distance. Selene stood almost pressed against his chair; a light scent of cool mint wafted from her skin. He could hear his own heartbeat, but his face remained impassive, suppressing a sly smile deep inside.
He hunched his shoulders slightly, as if checking the lines, and—as if by chance—the back of his hand brushed against her hip, draped in fine cloth. The contact was only for a split second; but Ren felt the muscles beneath the robe tense briefly, then relax.
Selene took a calming breath. "Focus," she said, without scolding. "You're making your lines shift."
"I'm sorry," Ren replied, his voice soft. "I was… distracted by Lady Selene's scent. Like leaves coated in morning dew." His words were soft, whispered, as if a secret between librarians.
Selene didn't answer immediately; instead, she leaned forward. One hand guided Ren's wrist, while the other palm pressed the back of his hand to make the curved line more stable. The touch of the cold fingers channeled a subtle mana vibration, like the flow of frozen water through Ren's veins, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
"This way," she whispered, the tips of her silver hair hanging over Ren's shoulders, tickling his cheeks. In between his own heartbeat, Ren felt the heat from the flickering light of the lamp focused precisely on his waist, where Selene's hips occasionally brushed his upper arm.
He let the interaction continue. The hourglass continued to move. The basic spell—Rune Convergent I—should have been completed in two minutes, but they were already past fifteen. No one was in a hurry; Akira was experimenting with the ether resin reaction in the alchemy room, and the librarian didn't dare disturb the Grand Mage.
Ren finally put down his pen. "I've done it," he said quietly. He turned his head—his nose almost touching Selene's temple. "How was it?"
Selene checked. The lines were perfect this time. The silver eyes flashed with slight surprise—as if she hadn't expected this "accidental" maid to learn the pattern so quickly. "Good… for a beginner," she murmured. She started to step back, but Ren shifted the chair—"accidentally"—so that her knee was touching his thigh.
Selene's body froze for a moment. Ren looked down, then quickly stepped back. "A-ah—I'm sorry." He stood up, bowing as deeply as he could. "It turns out the chair was a bit tight."
Selene cleared her throat. A slight blush crept across her cheeks, contrasting with her coolness. She shook her head, her silver hair swaying. "Be more careful next time," she said—but her cold tone had melted into a faint warmth.
Ren reached for a soft cloth, wiping off the excess rune ink on his fingers. He then looked at Selene's hand, which still held the spare pen. The mage's fingers were slender, almost transparent white, and in the crystal light, light blue veins were visible.
"Lady Selene's skin…" Ren said softly, as if in deep thought, "is truly as smooth as a round crystal polished by elysian water." His words came out softly, but clearly enough to break the silence of the research room.
Selene stared at him intently, but the pounding of her heart was revealed in a quick breath that Ren's sensitive ears caught. "Don't flatter me," she replied, trying to keep her cool. "Soft skin is just a side effect of the drought-resistant elixir."
Ren smiled faintly. "Perhaps. But still… beautiful." He held her gaze. The seed of praise, if uttered lightly, sank deeper than a thousand flattery.
The Grand Mage finally turned his head away, as if checking the back shelf. "You're done studying for today. Put away the manuscript. Practice every night."
Ren tucked the parchment into his bag, then bowed his head. "Thank you, Lady Selene. Spending time with you… has given me new meaning to the word 'magic'."
The words were spoken in a half-whisper. Selene still had her back to him, but Ren saw her ears—the tips were red, the most obvious sign that her ice fortress was cracking.
They walked out of the stone hallway. Ren deliberately walked half a step behind, letting the cool mint scent guide him. Every now and then Selene glanced to the side, either to make sure Ren wasn't left behind, or to make sure she wasn't walking too fast. The chandelier illuminated her hair, turning each silver strand into a ribbon of living light.
As they stepped out into the courtyard, the acacia began to scatter its night petals. A gentle breeze swirled, ruffling Selene's purple robes until they clung thinly to her figure. Ren glanced briefly—just enough to register the curve of her waist and the rise and fall of her breath. When Selene noticed, he quickly looked away, pretending to watch the half moon in the sky.
Selene didn't reprimand. Instead, she stared silently at the side of Ren's face, searching for what made this man different from the other scholars who always worshipped him only for his title. Ren praised her without humility, but also without coarse lust. There was a sincerity that—ironically—was more moving.
They parted at the steps of the eastern pillar. Selene made her way up the stairs of her research tower, Ren headed for the servants' corridor. Before she could fully turn, Ren leaned forward. "Lady Selene," he called softly.
Selene paused, turning her head, silver hair swaying.
"If you need a copywriter late at night…" Ren met her gaze, "I'm always awake. I don't sleep until dawn."
A mauve blush hid in Selene's cheeks. "Very well," she said simply—but her voice was softer than before. She stepped up the stairs, the cape swaying gently. Halfway up, she paused, turning her head. Ren was still standing, staring at her, his gaze calm—but full of faint promise.
Selene hurried on. At the top of the stairs, she felt her chest. Her heart was beating irregularly. She pushed open the tower door, stepping into a silent room lit only by candles. But the image of the hand that had guided Ren's wrist—and the gentle compliment about his skin—continued to echo in her mind, louder than the most complex mana spell.
Ren arrived at the servants' dormitory, lighting a small candle. He pulled out a secret notebook. On a new page, he wrote:
Selene—first phase: Study touch, physical praise. Response: increased heart rate, flushed face, no resistance to distance.
He smiled, then drew a small circle of runes in the corner—a dream-breathing spell. With his fingertip, he drew a drop of blood into the center of the rune, whispering Selene's name. The pale purple light flickered, fading away. The seed had been planted; tonight Selene would dream of the same touch—but longer, slower, in places she had never let anyone touch her before.
Ren extinguished the candle, lying down, letting the darkness swallow the room. In the gap, new plans pulsed, waiting for dawn.
In the tall tower, Selene sat in a reading chair, grimoires piled up but none open. The crystal lamp in the corner flickered—then went out—then came back on, following the wave of unstable mana. The Grand Mage closed his eyes, kneading his pounding chest. On the back of her hand, she could still "feel" the warmth of Ren's fingers… as if the touch had been left behind as a trace of magic.
When she finally fell asleep in the chair, the crystal of the lamp swayed slowly, scattering purple light that formed rune lines around her body—runes that vaguely resembled the circles she had just taught Ren.
And behind her closed eyelids, Selene dove into a dream… where a man with a gentle smile guided her hand to draw patterns in the air—but this time the patterns were on her own sensitive skin, causing an electric sensation that made her moan softly.
Who… actually taught who…? Selene thought in between the swish of dream desires.