The hallways of the school were nearly empty, the faint hum of the city beyond its walls barely reaching through the windows. Morning light stretched across the polished floors, reflecting off the neat rows of lockers. It was far too early for most students to arrive—only the occasional teacher passing through or the diligent class president making his rounds.

Florence moved in practiced steps, his uniform perfectly in place, every button done up, tie perfectly aligned. His long ashy-blond hair was swept back neatly, save for the strands that always seemed to fall over his right eye. His posture was composed, almost unapproachable, but his mind was elsewhere, too accustomed to solitude to notice the occasional glances thrown his way as he passed.

Turning the corner, his gaze landed on an unexpected sight—someone crouched by a classroom door, fingers working a hairpin into the lock. His classroom. The girl’s back was to him, her short wolf-cut shifting slightly as she focused, sleeves rolled up, the pants of her uniform neatly pressed but slightly scuffed at the edges. He knew her. Not by name, but in the way one recognizes a classmate without ever acknowledging them. She always sat at the back, always seemed outnumbered when surrounded by others, but never seemed to back down.

Florence stopped a few paces away, hands slipping into his pockets as he watched in silence. The hairpin clicked, the door creaked open just a fraction.

"That’s against school rules."

His voice was quiet but carried easily in the empty hallway. The girl didn’t jump, didn’t startle—just stilled for a second before tilting her head slightly toward him, like she’d been caught but wasn’t particularly concerned about it.

Florence exhaled through his nose, stepping forward until he was beside the door, glancing down at her. His deep blue eyes, tinged with gold, reflected the morning light as he studied her with the same scrutiny he gave everything else. Then, after a pause—