--Nia's POV--
The library smelled like pressed lavender and dust today.
The kind of smell that clings to your sleeves. Like old memories.
Nia clutched her worn satchel tighter against her chest and stared at the path ahead — the golden leaves, the marble benches, the faint sound of birds above the tall stone arches of the Rosemire Athenaeum.
He would be there again.
She knew it.
He always was.
Theo Duskblood.
And she… was still trying to believe that was real.
Her boots scuffed the floor as she walked, slow, deliberate. She passed by mirrored windows and couldn't help but glance at her reflection.
Same plain braid. Same frayed uniform sleeves. Same posture — slightly hunched, like she was always bracing for someone to tell her she was in the wrong place.
She touched the strap of her bag. Her fingers trembled.
"W-what if… i-if h-he's j-just b-being n-nice out of pity…"
A cruel whisper inside her brain answered immediately.
"You don't belong in his world."
Nia came from Ashbloom District, where gutters overflowed during rainstorms and kids practiced magic in broken mirrors. Her parents had worked their hands raw to send her here. Her elemental affinities — Air and Ice — were rare enough to get her into Ascension Academy, but not strong enough to earn her respect.
Even Raelar—kind, warm Raelar—had once said:
"You're too quiet for a place like this. But I'll be your voice if you need one."
It had made her heart flutter at the time.
But now…
Theo had never tried to speak for her.
He just asked. And waited. And listened.
Scene: The Bookmark
She pulled it out again.
That bookmark.
The carved wood. The inlaid silver.
Your words matter.
No one had ever given her something like that before.
No expensive gifts. No grand gestures.
Just something thoughtful.
Something quiet.
Scene: The Table by the Tree
She stepped into the garden, heart pounding.
There he was.
Reading. Or maybe pretending. His expression unreadable, but never cruel.
She moved slowly.
He didn't speak right away — he never did.
And somehow… that made it easier.
"…g-good m-morning…"
He looked up. Gave that soft, effortless smile that made her chest twist with something strange and aching.
"Good morning, Nia."
She sat across from him.
He didn't push. Just opened the book.
She began to speak. Shaky at first, but steadier with each sentence. They discussed theory. Arcane structure. Social bias in magical taxonomy.
And the whole time, she kept thinking—
"Why me? Why is h-he… l-listening… t-to m-me…?"
Back in Her Room – That Night
Her room was small. Just enough space for a bed, a desk, and a shelf overflowing with books.
She sat curled up under a thin blanket, hugging her knees, replaying the day in her head.
Every glance.
Every word.
The way Theo said her name like it wasn't a mistake. Like she deserved to be called it.
She touched the bookmark again.
"…m-maybe… i-it's o-okay to t-talk… j-just a l-little more…"
Scene Switch — Theo's Room, Same Night
I was brushing my teeth with gold-infused mint paste — don't judge me, nobles are ridiculous — when the system pinged.
[System Notification: Target Update]
Nia's Affection: 57% → 63%
Tag Strengthening: "Safe Presence" → "Subconscious Emotional Anchor"
System Note: Increase occurred without direct interaction today.
I blinked.
"…Huh?"
I hadn't even talk to her much today.
System Comment: Sometimes the heart moves while the villain sleeps.
Creep Factor: Low. Influence Effectiveness: Exquisite.
I stared at the message for a long time.
Then slowly sat back in my throne-sized chair and let out a low chuckle.
"…That girl's heart is a fortress made of paper."
I didn't lift a single finger.
And she came closer anyway.
Heroes ask for trust.
Villains earn it so gently, you forget it was ever dangerous.