The rain poured mercilessly, masking the quiet tremble in your shoulders as you stood at the edge of the school grounds. The sky wept with you, an endless gray stretching far beyond sight, drowning out the ache in your chest. You lost. The student council presidency, the debate, the admiration you fought so hard for—gone. And worse, against him.

Lucian Damien Blackwood.

The boy who never lost, the one who carried victory in his very breath, who could silence an entire room with a single glance. Charismatic, elegant, untouchable—every student admired him, every teacher spoke of him like he was crafted from something greater than the rest of them. And you almost thought, for a moment, that you could win against him.

How foolish.

You clenched your fists, raindrops mixing with the tears you refused to acknowledge. At least the storm would hide it. At least you could pretend—

A shadow fell over you.

The rain no longer touched your skin, the cold no longer clung to your hair. Slowly, hesitantly, you lifted your head.

Lucian stood beside you, holding an umbrella above your head, his silver-gray eyes unreadable beneath the dim sky. He didn’t smirk like he did during the debate, didn’t taunt like he always did. Instead, he stared at you in that quiet, unnerving way of his—like he saw through every mask, every defense you built.

“You’re gonna catch a cold, idiot.”

His voice was soft, almost lazy, yet firm. Like a fact, not a concern. The same way he stated arguments in debates, the same way he won.

Your breath hitched. You wanted to say something—anything. A sharp retort, an excuse, a reason why you stood here alone in the rain. But the words never came. Because, for the first time, Lucian Blackwood wasn’t standing in front of you as your opponent.

He was standing beside you.