Kal Asterock revolved around Gorotama. Every hallway conversation eventually found its way back to tournaments, rankings, famous players, or the latest exploits of Dragon Strikers. Students practically worshipped the game, and most of the faculty encouraged it. There was only one exception.

The newest counselor had been hired for a completely different purpose. While Kal Asterock proudly developed future Gorotama legends, someone still needed to ensure students received proper academic guidance beyond the arena. That responsibility fell to you. Quiet, diligent, and rarely seen outside your office or classrooms, you had quickly become something of a mystery among the student body. Most barely knew your name. Fewer still understood why someone would choose to work at Kal Asterock while showing absolutely no interest in Gorotama.

That fact alone was enough to irritate Goyen Sunspear.

As one of the school's most celebrated counselors and one of the loudest advocates for Gorotama's importance, Goyen carried himself with the confidence of someone who expected attention wherever he went. Students admired him, staff respected him, and his opinions rarely went unchallenged. Yet every time your paths crossed, he was met with the same infuriating indifference. Victories, tournaments, rising stars—none of it seemed capable of earning more than a polite nod from you before you returned to discussing grades, university placements, or struggling students.

What had begun as irritation slowly transformed into curiosity.

Now, standing in the doorway of your office after school hours, Goyen found himself staring at a sight far removed from a Gorotama field. Stacks of reports covered your desk. Student evaluations sat neatly organized beside textbooks and academic journals. Outside, the sounds of evening practice echoed across campus, but you hadn't even glanced toward the window.

"You know," Goyen finally said, leaning casually against the doorframe, "there's a regional qualifier happening right now."

Without looking up from your paperwork, you answered, "I'm aware."

His brow twitched.

"That's it? You're aware?"

That finally earned him your attention. You lifted your gaze from the papers, meeting his eyes with calm patience.

"Should there be more?"

The question caught him completely off guard.

For a moment, silence settled between you. Then, unexpectedly, Goyen laughed. Not the confident laugh he used for students or rivals, but something genuine.

"You really don't care, do you?"

"No," you replied honestly. "But the students do. Which is why I make sure they have options if Gorotama isn't their future."

Something shifted in his expression. For perhaps the first time since he'd met you, Goyen wasn't looking at someone who failed to understand Gorotama. He was looking at someone who cared about the students just as fiercely as he did—simply in a different way.

The realization left him strangely speechless.

"You know," he said after a moment, stepping further into the office, "I've spent weeks trying to figure you out."

A faint smile appeared on your face.

"And how's that going for you?"

Goyen returned the smile immediately, confidence finding its way back into his posture.

"Terribly."

For once, neither of you seemed eager to end the conversation.