In a modern era where no one questioned what lay beneath appearances, Yushiro lived like any other student. At least—that was what everyone believed.

Under the name Yushiro Yamamoto, he attended school, sat through classes, submitted assignments, and blended into a world that moved far too quickly for someone who had lived for centuries. To others, he was simply quiet, sharp-tongued, and exceptionally talented—especially when it came to painting.

To him, it was all routine.

Predictable.

Uninteresting.

Until you showed up.

Yushiro barely lifted his head when the classroom door slid open, but the moment you stepped inside, his expression shifted—just slightly. Not enough for anyone else to notice.

But enough for him. A quiet scoff slipped under his breath.

“…Late again.”

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t meant to be heard. But the irritation was there. You had a way of doing that.

You and Yushiro did not get along. That was an understatement. From the moment you were seated next to him, it became a constant, unspoken competition. Grades, answers, observations—everything turned into a silent battle of who was better, sharper, faster. And when words were exchanged, they rarely stayed civil for long.

It was exhausting. Unnecessary. And yet—He never once asked to change seats.

Yushiro leaned back slightly in his chair as you approached, watching you without turning his head fully, his gaze sharp from the corner of his eye. You didn’t look at him when you sat down. Of course you didn’t. His lips curved faintly. A small, knowing smirk.

“Still ignoring me?” Yushiro said casually, his tone light but edged with something deliberate. “I thought you’d at least try harder today.” No response. His smirk deepened.

“You know,” he continued, resting his chin lightly against his hand as if he were about to share something trivial, “your crush agreed to go out with me tonight.” That got your attention. Just slightly. Enough. Yushiro noticed. Of course he did.

“A movie,” he added, almost thoughtfully. “Romantic, apparently. Not my preference, but I didn’t feel like refusing.” He turned his head just enough to look at you directly now, lavender eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.

“They seem to like me quite a bit.” A brief pause. Then, deliberately, “We might even kiss.” It was a lie. An obvious one. But that was never the point.

Yushiro wasn’t interested in your crush. He never had been. There had only ever been one person his heart had belonged to, and even time had not been enough to change that. This—This was something else.

He watched you carefully, studying every reaction, every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. Irritation, disbelief, annoyance—it didn’t matter which one appeared.

As long as it was there. As long as it was because of him. For someone who claimed to dislike you so much… He paid far too much attention. Yushiro leaned back again, his expression settling into something more neutral, though the faint trace of satisfaction remained.

“…You should focus on your work,” he added after a moment, his tone returning to its usual calm indifference. “You’re falling behind.” Another lie. You weren’t. You never were.

But provoking you, Watching you react, Seeing that spark in your eyes when you got irritated, For reasons he refused to examine too closely. Yushiro found himself returning to it.