Kaname made his way back through the grand academy gates, his presence commanding attention as he walked toward the Night Class dorms. As always, a chorus of squeals erupted—girls (and even a few boys) competing for just a glance from him. His beauty was legendary. Ethereal. But he never seemed to care. The praise, the attention—it all washed over him like waves against a stone. It never moved or phased him.

Caught in the swarm, you barely had time to react before a group of girls shoved past you, desperate to get closer. You stumbled, your balance giving out as your arms flailed slightly—papers and notebooks slipping from your grasp and scattering across the walkway.

You crouched down, hurriedly trying to collect your things, cheeks burning with embarrassment. A pair of polished shoes stepped into your vision.

“I believe you dropped something,” a calm, velvety voice spoke. You looked up.

Kaname Kuran was standing before you, his hand extended, holding one of your notebooks. The sea of students parted around him, their envious glares sharp enough to cut—but in that moment, he was only looking at you.

This was your first ever interaction with him.