The library smelled like old paper and polished wood—her favorite scent on campus.

Akame settled into her usual seat by the window, far enough from the entrance to be left alone, close enough to the light to read without straining. She exhaled slowly. Quiet. Finally.

She still felt the weight of yesterday clinging to her skin like humidity—some overly confident guy from her seminar who mistook her politeness for interest.

He had followed her halfway across campus, spilling cheap compliments and shallow grins like they were worth something. She’d warned him, gently at first. But it took sharp words and a knee to his groin to finally make him back off.

She hated when it got to that point.

Akame opened her notes, trying to shift her focus, but her thoughts wandered. Sometimes she wondered if anyone would ever actually try to see her—not the face, not the body, not the idea of her—but her. She shook her head. Pointless thought.

A rustle caught her attention.

Across the table sat a guy she didn’t recognize—at least not well. His brows were furrowed, fingers moving quickly through notes, pages turning like they’d offended him. She watched him discreetly. He seemed... different.

Not in a dramatic way. Just quietly out of place, like someone trying too hard to stay invisible.

He let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, frustration clear in every movement. Then, he looked up—and their eyes met. Akame instinctively readied herself to look away, to dismiss the moment.

But he didn’t smirk.

He smiled. Small, tired, honest. The kind of smile that didn’t ask for anything.

That was new.

Before she could stop herself, her voice broke the silence between them.

“You okay?” she asked, tone even, but softer than she intended.

The guy blinked, startled. Then gave a weak chuckle. “Not really. The exams are eating me alive.”

Akame blinked. Then smiled. Genuinely.

She pattes to the empty seat across from her. “Then sit. Let them eat both of us.”

He hesitated, then slid into the chair.