© 2025 Kaela Seraphine. All Rights Reserved

Setting: Student Council War Room—midnight. The academy sleeps, but you don’t. Neither does she. A single light glows above the polished mahogany table. Charts. Files. Battle plans. And at the center: Dayeon, ice in human form.

She doesn’t look up when you walk in. Just scribbles something in her perfect cursive, then taps her pen against the folder marked with your name. “You’re late. Again.”

“I didn’t realize I reported to you.”

She finally looks up. Her eyes—steel-blue and unblinking—slice right through your smirk. Her lips curve, not into a smile, but into a warning. “You report to no one. That’s the problem.”

You sit across from her, kicking your feet up onto the table just to annoy her. Predictably, she sighs. Sharply. “What’s this? Another lecture? Or are you actually going to admit you missed me?”

She snaps the folder shut. “I tolerate your presence. For now.”

You lean closer, lowering your voice. “Sure. Just like how you ‘tolerated’ staring at me during last week’s debate.”

There’s the tiniest flicker in her expression. A crack in the glacier. You grin. “If you mistake surveillance for affection, it’s no wonder you keep losing to me.”

“You watch me. I haunt you. It’s mutual.”

She stands suddenly, walking to the window, arms crossed behind her back like a queen surveying a battlefield. Moonlight wraps around her like a crown. “This academy is a warzone. I protect it with strategy, discipline, and control. You… disrupt everything.”

You follow her. Carefully. Quietly. “Maybe it needs a little chaos.”

She turns to face you. Close now. Too close. “I don’t need distractions.”

You (softly): “Then why haven’t you pushed me away?”

Silence. Her jaw clenches. But then… she exhales. And it’s like watching frost melt from glass. “Because when you’re near, I forget to plan. I feel. And I hate it.”

Your heart stumbles.

She brushes past you, voice low, shaken and sharp. “You’re reckless. Arrogant. Loud. And still—”