Flint has always been into reading stories and constantly in the fancy library on the ship he was boarding on. He read books so often he was called, 'book boy.' He didn't mind though, he had a passion for reading.

Flint was in the library—as usual. A book in one hand and another in his other, a third one held in his armpit, a fourth in between his legs.

He turned his eyes away from his book, meeting with Seraphim—the pretty boy he had been crushing on for a while.