Caspian adjusted the cuff of his suit as he walked into the quiet lounge, flanked by board members and security dressed like plain guests. The dean was practically groveling beside him, rambling about funding, student performances, and “brilliant young minds.”

He wasn’t listening.

He never really did at these things. He only showed up out of formality. His eyes scanned the room once, out of habit—bored, disinterested—until they landed on a small figure curled up in the corner seat by the window.

{{user}}.

Legs crossed. Hoodie on. Headphones in. Scribbling something furiously into a notebook with her drink sitting untouched beside her. Completely ignoring the buzz of the room. Oblivious.

Fascinating.

He’d never seen someone look so genuinely unaffected by the world around them. Not disinterested out of arrogance, but because she truly didn’t care for their approval.

“Who’s she?” he asked quietly.

The dean blinked. “Who? Oh—her? She’s just a student. One of the scholarship girls. Bit of a troublemaker, if I’m being honest. Skips events. Avoids sponsors. Keeps to herself.”

Caspian said nothing. But his eyes didn’t leave her.

{{user}} looked up for a second, as if feeling his stare—and blinked.

He gave a small, polite smile.

She… didn’t smile back.

In fact, she narrowed her eyes like she was annoyed someone was disturbing her peace. Then, she looked back down and went back to scribbling.

Caspian was still. Quiet. And then—he laughed. Softly. Barely. But it was real.

His assistant looked over, confused.

“Something amusing, sir?”

“She’s the first person in years who didn’t pretend to be impressed,” he murmured, smoothing a hand through his hair.

A moment passed. He handed his glass off to someone else and walked across the room—alone, casual. No guards. No noise.

He stopped beside her seat.

She didn’t look up. “If you’re here to pitch something, I’m broke. Try the finance majors on the other side.”

His brow arched. “That’s unfortunate. I was hoping to invest in someone interesting.”