"The gates don't open unless they already want you inside."— Unknown
Fog rolled like pale fingers across the courtyard stones, curling against the tall iron gates of Veilborne Academy. The towers stretched high into the sky, twisted black spires like spears of bone piercing the crimson clouds above. Lanterns flickered along the archways with a sickly blue flame, casting cold light over the gathering students.
Cid stood alone at the edge of the main hall's staircase, hands buried in the pockets of his coat, white hair ruffled slightly by the breeze. His eyes, sharp and distant, tracked the new arrivals with the kind of indifference that made others uncomfortable. People whispered about him already — the boy with ghost-hair and a devil's grin. But Cid didn't care.
He was here for one reason: power. Everything else was just flesh.
"Staring again?" came a voice like silk stretched thin. "You'll make me blush."
Iris stepped beside him, arms folded beneath the curve of her chest. She wore the academy's uniform like it was tailored for seduction — tight corset-like top, slit skirt, black stockings. Her midnight-black hair fell in waves past her shoulders, eyes gleaming like frost under starlight.
Cid gave her a side glance. "You're already blushing, Iris."
"I'm cold."
"You're always cold," he said, leaning close. "Maybe you want me to warm you up."
Her breath hitched, just for a moment. She scoffed and turned away, but he caught the twitch at the corner of her lips — the one she always tried to hide. That was the game they played. She acted like his teasing annoyed her, like his hand on her hip didn't set her on fire. But every time he touched her, she melted a little more.
"I heard someone went missing again," Iris said, quieter now. "Another first-year. Gone from the dorms. Blood on the walls. No body."
Cid raised an eyebrow. "Is that fear I hear?"
"I'm not afraid."
He stepped behind her, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Then why are you shaking?"
She didn't answer. Not with words. Her body gave her away — tense, drawn in, as if caught between running and leaning into him. His hand slid slowly over her hip, down to the edge of her thigh-high stockings, fingers toying with the seam.
"Cid…" Her voice was breathy, caught between a warning and a plea.
"Say stop," he whispered.
She didn't.
Instead, she turned her head just enough to meet his eyes — and that was all the invitation he needed. He pressed her back against the stone wall just inside the archway, hidden from view by thick columns and the noise of arriving students.
Their mouths met in a kiss that tasted like danger. Her hands fisted in his coat, pulling him closer, while his fingers found the ties of her uniform and loosened them with practiced ease. She gasped as the cold stone pressed against her back and his hand slid beneath her shirt, finding the heat of her skin.
"I hate how you do this," she whispered, biting her lip as his hand claimed more of her. "I hate how much I want you."
"Liar," he said, nipping her neck. "You love it. You love when I take what you pretend not to offer."
She shuddered under him, her thighs parting instinctively. There was no resistance, not really — just the thinnest veil of denial that made everything taste sweeter when she finally gave in. He pushed aside the last layer of clothing and sank into her with a slow, punishing rhythm.
Her moan was swallowed by his mouth.
The stone walls of Veilborne had heard many things — pleas, confessions, screams — but none quite like hers. She clung to him like she was drowning, legs wrapping around his waist, hips meeting his every thrust with a hunger that matched his own. Her nails raked down his back. She broke apart in his arms, trembling, whispering his name over and over like a curse or a prayer.
When it was done, he held her there for a moment, both of them breathing hard.
She looked up at him, hair a wild mess, eyes glassy and dark with lust. "One day," she said softly, "you're going to ruin me."
Cid brushed a lock of hair from her face. "That's the plan."
Later that night, the bells tolled from the East Wing.
Cid stood by the windows in the upper dormitory tower, watching cloaked enforcers drag something out of the girl's hall. The rain had started again — thin, red-tinted, falling like blood diluted with tears.
"Another one gone," murmured the Leon beside him. "Room soaked with blood. No signs of struggle. No magic residue. Just... empty."
"What was her name?" Cid asked.
The Leon frowned. "Bellara. Fourth-year. Skilled. Stronger than most of us."
Cid said nothing. His eyes fixed on the path of crimson left behind as they carried a covered shape past the gates. Something cold coiled in his gut, a feeling he didn't recognize.
Not guilt.Not fear.Something deeper.Wrong.
There was a pattern, he realized. All the vanished students had passed through one thing before disappearing.Him.
Back in his room, Iris lay naked in his bed, half-asleep, fingers lazily tracing circles on his chest. "She was your type," she murmured.
"Who?"
"Bellara. Big tits. Big mouth."
Cid didn't answer.
Iris's tone darkened. "You didn't sleep with her, did you?"
"Would it matter if I had?"
She looked up, eyes narrowed. "You're mine."
That made him laugh — a cold, low sound. "Is that how you see it?"
"It's how it is."
She curled against him like a possessive shadow, lips at his throat.
A faint creaking sound echoed from beneath the floorboards — like old wood groaning under pressure. Iris didn't seem to notice. But Cid's eyes opened slowly, staring at the ceiling as if he could see through it.
That sound again. Faint, rhythmic. Like something moving in the walls. Or beneath them.
Outside, the storm thickened. The sky flashed with dull violet lightning, and for just a second, the outline of something enormous could be seen above the Academy — a silhouette with too many limbs and a head that split down the middle.
Cid didn't blink.
Somewhere beneath Veilborne, the ground shifted — as if something vast stirred in the dark.Waiting.Hungry.And watching him.