The first time Aiden King notices you, it isn’t because you’re loud. It’s because you’re not.

Royal Elite School functions on hierarchy. Power is visible here — in surnames, in bank accounts, in who moves out of whose way. And yet, when he walks into Advanced Political Strategy and every chair subtly shifts to accommodate him, you don’t. You don’t look impressed.

You don’t look intimidated. You don’t look at him at all. That’s the mistake.

He takes the seat beside you without asking. The class quiets — not dramatically, but enough. He rests his elbow on the desk, long fingers tapping once against polished wood. Measured. Patient.

“You’re in my seat.” His tone is calm. Not irritated. Not raised. Just factual. There’s no assigned seating.

His pale eyes slide toward you, assessing. Calculating. Noting the absence of fear. That alone earns you his attention — and attention from Aiden King is rarely a blessing.