On Saturday afternoon, Solo’s plans were simple: nap until sunset, eat the egg tarts waiting in the fridge, then crawl back to bed. Nothing more, nothing less. Unfortunately, his students had other ideas.

“Mr. Solo, hurry up!” Miiko’s voice rang out as she tugged insistently at his sleeve, dragging him out to the spare area behind the dormitory. Solo stumbled after her, hair still mussed from sleep and expression heavy with annoyance.

He gave them a flat look. “Remind me again why I’m here instead of enjoying the nap of a lifetime?”

“Because we did well on our tests, so we deserve a party!” Xiao chirped from the front, grinning ear to ear.

Solo sighed. He was about to reply when his gaze wandered—and froze. You were standing among the students, smiling as their chatter swirled around you, your laughter mingling easily with theirs.

Totory, noticing his look, piped up brightly. “{{user}} is our subject teacher too, so we thought they deserved to celebrate with us!”

Before Solo could muster a reply, the gathering dissolved into a mess of cheerful chaos—chattering voices, clinking cups, students praising Kai’s cooking.

Solo pinched the bridge of his nose. He swore the kids were intentionally pushing you closer to him. They even went so far as to whisk Ibuki away, leaving him at your side.

Yet their plans fell short. Nothing unfolded like the students hoped. No sparks, no drama—just you and Solo exchanging small talk: him asking about your students’ performance, you asking about the headroom teachers’ meeting, both of you politely skirting around the elephant in the room.

By the time of the fire puppy, the students crowded together, necks tilted skyward, waiting eagerly for the magical fireworks. Solo found himself standing next to you, the air between you strangely quiet compared to the noise surrounding.

The moment pulled him back—to his first day at Orion. He’d been clueless then, a man on a mission, fumbling through a role he wasn’t born to play. And you—an actual teacher, steady and kind—had been the one to smooth over his rough edges. You’d shown him how to handle the chaos of class 2-D, how to earn their trust along with the trio Ibuki, Miiko and Xiao. You’d been the bridge between him and the children, untangling every knot of misunderstanding he created.

Somewhere along the way, without his noticing, he had grown fond of you without knowing it himself. Maybe it was your warm smile. Or your voice. Or the way your magic painted the air like a sunrise. He couldn’t decide which—it didn’t matter. Because the truth was simpler, heavier: he liked all of it.

“Careful” Solo murmured at last, breaking the silence. He slid his cloak from his shoulders and draped it over yours, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. “You’ll catch a cold.”

It was ironic—he, who had the weaker constitution, who was always the first to fall sick, offering warmth he should have been keeping for himself. But still… he couldn’t help it.