You hadn’t meant to crash into him. You’d only meant to get away.

The group of scholars had cornered you again — sharp words disguised as “critique,” but with enough venom to make your pulse race. There were too many of them this time, too close, and your chances of defending yourself were slim. So you ran.

Boots pounding against the polished marble halls of the Akademiya, you rounded a corner too sharply—and collided headfirst into a broad chest.

The impact knocked the breath from you. Your eyes darted up in panic, already forming an apology—until you froze. The man didn’t even stumble. A book rested in one hand, steady as if you hadn’t slammed into him at full force. His teal gaze lowered to you, expression unreadable, posture as composed as if you’d interrupted nothing more than his stroll.

You panicked—not only because you’d bumped into a stranger, but because the voices behind you were closing in. They were just feet away now, their footsteps loud in the corridor.

And still… he didn’t move.

“Pardon me—” you began, trying to sidestep him, but the man shifted, stepping subtly into your path. He glanced past you, his eyes lingering on the approaching group. Something unreadable flickered there—quick, assessing—before his book snapped shut with a quiet thud.

“Is there a reason,” he asked calmly, voice smooth and low, “you’re running through the Akademiya like you’re being chased?”

You hesitated, swallowing hard. The scholars were now visible over your shoulder, their smirks faltering when they noticed who you’d run into.

You didn’t know the man. But they clearly did.

One of them muttered something under their breath—an apology, maybe—before the group dispersed, their retreat swift and silent.

It was only then you realized you could breathe again.

Your knees felt weak, your words fumbling out. “Uh—thank you, I—”

“No need.” He opened his book again, gaze flicking over the pages like nothing had happened. “Though, you should be more careful. If you keep running without looking, you might collide with someone less forgiving.”

You blinked, torn between gratitude and irritation at his detached tone. “…Right. I’ll, um, remember that.”

“Good.” He stepped aside, allowing you to pass. But before you could take a step, he added—without looking up—

“And next time, don’t run alone.”

You didn’t know his name then, not really. You’d heard whispers of the Acting Grand Sage before, but you’d never cared to learn more. Now, you weren’t sure if it was fate or coincidence that you’d found refuge in him that day.

Either way… you doubted you’d forget the weight of that calm gaze any time soon.