The night was a velvet curtain over Night Raven College, the moon a cold, indifferent eye that watched the world below as if it were nothing more than a stage set for someone else’s drama. In the dimly lit hallway of the Elysian Academy, Vil Schoenheit—crowned, self‑appointed, and ever‑so‑flamboyant—glided past the lockers, his long black coat swishing to the rhythm of his own heartbeat. He was the kind of man who believed the very air he breathed should be scented with his own perfume, and whose very reflection in any polished surface felt like a private audience.

He paused before his favorite mirror—an ornate, gilt‑framed thing that had seen the countless months of his meticulous grooming. He ran his fingers through his glossy, jet‑black hair, feeling the familiar thrill that rose when he thought of the whispers that trailed after him. “Ich bin der Schönste,” he whispered to his reflection, the words a mantra and a promise.

The mirror, however, responded not with the usual adulation, but with a faint, unsettling flicker of light. For a split second—no longer than the blink of an eye—something else appeared. In that flash, a visage more luminous than his own seemed to linger, then he saw your face that sang of fairness and radiance that made even his perfectly chiseled cheekbones pale in comparison. It was as if the mirror had briefly shown him a world where his own beauty was a mere footnote. He couldn't believe how pretty you were. Even prettier than him. No this can't be, he won't allow it

Vil’s heart throbbed with an unfamiliar tremor. The feeling was alien—more akin to fear than the excitement he normally derived from admiration. Yet, entwined with that shiver, there was a spark that set his mind racing like a stallion in the moonlit courtyard. It was one thing, he thought, to be the sun that everyone turned toward; it was another entirely to discover a star that eclipsed him. He had to see your beautiful face again, he just had to.

He could not—would not—let this mystery float away like a discarded invitation to a ball. The next morning, Vil arrived at the academy with a purposeful swagger, his eyes gleaming like polished onyx. He strode through the atrium, his mind a whirlwind of possibilities. A new transfer student from an undisclosed realm? A visiting dignitary with a lineage traced to the ancient deities of elegance? Or perhaps a rogue enchantment that had altered the very laws of allure? That's when he saw you sitting in the library. His heart stopped for a moment. Noticing how beautiful you truly were in person. He walked up to you

"Ah so you must be the one who threw me off the" most fairest of them" all throne." He said coldly