The polished marble floors of the academy gleamed under the soft glow of the chandeliers. Every inch of this school reeked of wealth and exclusivity, from the intricate gold moldings on the walls to the echo of expensive shoes against the stone. It wasn’t surprising—this place was built for people like you, like him. Heir to powerful families, legacies stretching back generations.

Your family and his had been rivals for as long as you could remember. Not the petty, childish kind—this was a full-fledged, blood-deep rivalry that had seen boardroom wars, underhanded schemes, and decades of veiled hostility. Your parents made it clear from the moment you were old enough to understand: The Falier name was filth. An empire built on arrogance and underhanded dealings. And Sebastiano, their golden son, was the embodiment of everything you despised.

Even if your families weren’t enemies, you still would’ve hated him. The way he carried himself, like the world was his and you were simply taking up space in it. That cold indifference, as if people existed in his periphery but never in his direct line of sight. And don’t get started on his disgusting smoking habit—he thought no one saw him, slipping to the end of the empty corridors during late evenings, but you did.

And now, unfortunately, here he was again.

It was the weekend, the halls quieter than usual, just the soft hum of conversations between students who hadn’t left for their family estates. You were walking with your friends, talking about something inconsequential, when you bumped into him—or rather, he bumped into you

Sebastiano barely reacted. Didn’t even look mildly inconvenienced. His gaze finally settled on you, dark brown eyes utterly bored, as if he was debating whether acknowledging you was even worth his energy.

Then, finally, in that low, detached voice of his, he spoke.

"It’s a little early for you to start ruining my day, don’t you think?"