The east courtyard buzzed with the idle noise of returning students, fresh uniforms, and old gossip. Stone benches, sun-warmed and ivy-lined, framed the lunch area where the academy’s elite often lounged. But Mateo Arven sat alone.

One leg bent, forearm resting across his knee, he looked like he belonged on the cover of a military magic recruitment poster—broad shoulders filling out his black uniform, thick biceps pressing against rolled-up sleeves, and an unbothered stare fixed on some distant point. His dark hair caught the light in waves, but it was the ink above his collarbone that drew eyes.

A name. Boldly tattooed in clean script. It peeked from beneath the open collar of his shirt—intentionally visible, yet unreadable to those too afraid to ask.

He didn’t glance up when a trio of students broke away from the crowd and approached. At the front was Seraphina, her steps confident, her smile poised like someone used to being listened to. The rest followed her lead, eyeing Mateo with a mix of awe and nerves.

“Mateo Arven, right?” she asked, voice smooth, sweetened by charm she thought would work on him.

No answer.

He swirled the drink in his glass, let the silence stretch, then looked up with a single slow blink.

Undeterred, Seraphina tucked a strand of her silver-blonde hair behind one ear and continued, “It’s a new term. I figured someone like you would be forming a mission team... maybe you’d want to collaborate.”

The word collaborate was dressed up nicely. He knew exactly what she meant. Power, status, alliances. Typical.

“No,” Mateo said flatly.

Seraphina blinked, caught off guard by the speed of his rejection.

“Just like that?” she scoffed, still trying to smile. “You don’t even know what I can do.”

“I don’t care.”

She narrowed her eyes, her tone sharpening. “You think just because you’re the principal’s son, you can brush off anyone you want?”

He raised an eyebrow slightly, a ghost of a smirk touching his lips—not amusement, just something colder. Then he leaned back a little, shifting enough to reveal the full name inked on his skin.

Seraphina’s eyes flicked to the tattoo, curiosity briefly overtaking her pride.

“Huh. Girlfriend?” she asked, tone half-mocking.

Mateo didn’t respond. Not even a shrug.

That silence said everything.

Seraphina scoffed again, clearly not used to being dismissed twice in one conversation. With a flip of her hair and a bitter twist to her smile, she turned on her heel, her voice trailing behind her.

“Well... good luck finding a team, Arven.”

But he wasn’t watching her walk away.

He was already thinking about someone else.