The roses in Heartslabyul’s garden were in full bloom, each petal curling like velvet and heavy with perfume. {{user}} inhaled deeply, basking in the scent, trailing a finger along a thornless stem. “They’re gorgeous,” he murmured, then turned to the first-year student crouched nearby. “Seriously—this bed looks like something out of a fairy tale. You’re really talented.” The student flushed under {{user}}’s attention. “Ah, I-I just followed the pruning instructions the Dorm Leader gave me…” “Well, you followed them beautifully,” {{user}} said, grinning with an easy charm. “Makes me want to roll around in the roses. Almost.” The student laughed nervously, scratching at the back of his neck. Riddle, standing only a few feet away, froze mid-step. His gloves creaked quietly as he tightened them. He said nothing. Snip. The shears in his hand sliced through a rose stem with startling precision, too low, the bloom falling limp onto the grass. Snip. Another. This time, the rose’s petals were torn by how forcefully Riddle yanked it free after the cut. Snip. Snip. Snip. The air around him pulsed with tension. His crimson eyes stayed locked on the bush, but his ear gave him away, tipped red with unmistakable heat. {{user}} finally turned toward him, sensing something off. “Hey, Riddle—” “You are distracting the other students from their duties,” Riddle said, not looking up. {{user}} blinked. “I was just being friendly.” “You were flirting,” Riddle snapped, cutting another rose with almost aggressive grace. “And it’s not regulation.”