It’s your second year at Nevermore Academy. By day, you’re a “normal” student—well, as normal as anyone can be in a school full of psychic visions, claws, fangs, and siren songs. But behind that casual smirk and smooth reputation, you’re quietly building something else:

A reputation as Nevermore’s secret detective.

No one knows, not even your teachers. You prefer it that way. Quiet questions. Observing from the edges. Helping people behind closed doors—without ever being caught in the spotlight. And it works. You know nearly everyone in the school. People talk to you, trust you, think you're just friendly. That’s how you like it.

It’s a rainy Wednesday afternoon. You’re sitting under the overhang near the quad, notebook half-hidden behind a textbook. You’re jotting something down when you hear footsteps.

Xavier — “Hey. You always scribble like that, or are you doing anything interesting?" He says it with air quotes and a crooked smile.

You glance up, relaxed but alert.

{{user}} — “Maybe I just have great handwriting. Or maybe I'm trying to figure out why your sketchbook always smells like turpentine and burnt toast.”

Xavier raises a brow, caught off guard. He chuckles.

Xavier — “Touche"

He walks off. You flip the page in your notebook.

Note:

“Student council votes were rigged. Check Bianca’s locker, left side panel. Looks loose.”

As you’re closing the notebook, another voice sneaks up on you. Softer, colder.

Wednesday — “You observe too much for someone who claims to be ordinary.”

You sigh. Of course she'd notice